for needsnoking

[osgiliath]

Faramir wasted no time in traveling back to Gondor when word reached his ears.

Your brother, my lord. He-- it has been said that he has been sighted in one of the inns in Minas Tirith. There can be no mistaking him.

It was as if the very air around him had been stolen by a void. For several moments he could not breathe, could not think, could not feel even the cold hands of his wife as she held on to his arm. Could it be true? Could Boromir be alive?

There can be no mistaking him. Of course, for every man in Gondor knew his brother, loved him dearly. News of this kind would not have made its way to Faramir, not without someone making sure the information was realible.

What if--?

The ride was long and hard, and when he reached the said inn both master and horse were filled with exhaustion. Yet there was no rest for Faramir tonight.

Not until he'd seen his brother.

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[osgiliath]

It was Sam who had told him about Boromir trying to take the ring, but Faramir had thought it prudent to keep his silence about it, not until Boromir had spoken about it first. Yet now that he did--

The denial that rose to his lips was too quick, at the mention of him doing Denethor proud. It had seemed before that there was naught that Faramir could have done to gladden Denethor's heart, and that even his death would mean nothing to him. The unfavored son, whom he wished had died instead of the beloved one. Faramir often wondered what would have happened if he was the one sent in Boromir's place; if he had brought Frodo and the ring to Gondor instead of letting them both go in Osgiliath. Would Denethor be happy with him then, though in so doing damn all the lands of Men?

And yet the knowledge that Boromir had willingly led them all to believe he was dead hurt, and he could not help but think it a foolish deed to do. "I see," he said slowly. "Better that you live in our memory as how you have left us instead of showing us who you've become, under the influence of the One Ring. Better to let us grieve and ache and long for the man whom all of Gondor loved, only so you'd be certain that your dignity is left untarnished."

[needsnoking]

Boromir had not thought of any plans past making it back to Minas Tirith in one piece, wanting only to see his City, feel the breeze on his face from atop the Tower of Ecthelion. He had not counted on Faramir finding him but, he thought, he was Boromir's own blood, and Boromir himself would have done the same if their places were reversed. If it had been Faramir in the fellowship, it might not have failed.

Lowering his tankard back to the table, Boromir fell silent. He felt a rush of shame at his brother's words.

"'Twas not for my dignity, Faramir." Anguished, Boromir grasped a handful of his brother's tunic. "It was to spare you from seeing this. I will not lie: Father's wrath has kept me from home, but I did not fear his opinion as much as yours." He let go abruptly. "At Amon Hen, I was wounded; grievously, I thought. Orc poison in the arrows would see me die slowly and painfully. As you can see, it did not happen," he said lowly, voice thick. "I thought not of dignity, for I have none."

[osgiliath]

"Spare me?" What madness was this? Did Boromir truly think--

Faramir sat straighter, trying to grasp the strangeness of it and failing. "What of my opinion, Boromir? Did you fear that it will change, if I see you like this? Did you fear my love for you would lessen, that I would so easily be ashamed of you and renounce you as my blood and kin?"

Here he stood, and stared at Boromir with hooded eyes. "All this time, I did not realize you think so little of me as well." From Denethor he had accepted and endured it, but from Boromir? It was as unexpected as it was hurtful, and quickly Faramir realized this was not how he had envisioned their reunion to be.

[needsnoking]

Boromir made to rise when his brother stood, but found he was too unsteady on his feet. He sank back down onto the seat, clutching his ale as if it would anchor him to the spot. Spots swam in front of his eyes.

"Faramir," he muttered, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. Though he hadn't anticipated seeing his brother again, now that he had it, he could not let go. He wrapped a hand around Faramir's wrist tightly. "You misunderstand. I have disgraced our House and our line because of my weakness. I speak not of your love for me, but my shame in failing you and Father." Boromir's shoulders shook but he only held his brother more firmly.

[osgiliath]

"You have not failed me," Faramir insisted, clasping his hands behind his back for lack of anything to do with them. "That you have persisted and lived despite all that you have told me... Boromir, do you not think it spoke of your great strength, of your courage? You have not lost either and I doubt you ever will."

He then drew closer to his brother and knelt in front of him, so that he might look him in the eye. "Some greater power must have brought you here in Gondor. And it is surely not the One Ring's, for it has long been cast in the fires wherein it truly belongs."

[needsnoking]

At the mention of the Ring, Boromir's head jerked up, and his eyes widened.

He had guessed as much after seeing the skies above Gondor and Mordor cleared of the Shadow, and heard whispers of the new King in the streets for the short time he had been in Minas Tirith, but until now there had been no confirmation of it, yet here it was coming from the mouth of his brother.

Boromir's hand landed on Faramir's shoulder, holding it tightly.

"Brother," he said, and his voice was tremulous. "Has Gondor come to peace?"

[osgiliath]

Faramir placed his hand over Boromir's and nodded. On his face was a smile that had now become a fixture on it. "The dark clouds of Mordor no longer looms before her, for Gondor's borders are no longer threatened by evil unslain. Those who clung to hope have finally see it bear fruit: days of peace have come at last to us. We no longer have anything to fear."

He squeezed Boromir's hand. "Would you not come to celebrate it with us?"